


Man of Grief and Pain

by Quasi_a_la_Modo



Category: Naruto
Genre: Death, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Pain, Tragedy, Work In Progress, loss of a loved one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-11 08:25:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15311439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quasi_a_la_Modo/pseuds/Quasi_a_la_Modo
Summary: Obito’s life had been nothing but tragedy after tragedy. Beginning his life as an orphan, he had to constantly struggle to make his name— to make his parents and clan proud. Obito’s Grandmother, his only surviving family, has cared for him since, and now she was dead.(Work in Progress)





	Man of Grief and Pain

**Author's Note:**

> For Ava - Hvor dejligt det var for at kende dig, bedstemor.

The sun had begun its descent into the west, casting a trail of shadows along the ground. Row after row of silent stones— an army of civilians, soldiers, and friends—or what was left of them—who share only one thing in common: they are dead. And now his grandmother would join their ranks.

Obito stands at her grave, watching for… he doesn’t know. A sign of life, perhaps? An indication that this was some cruel mistake? His eyes were heavy with lack of sleep, and yet he cannot do so. A gentle breeze trails against his cheek, cooling the hot tears as they descend, slowly, snaking down and falling to the ground. The only sound is that of the trees swaying gently in the wind, otherwise the night is “silent as the grave.” Obito smiles slightly. Baasan had a delightfully morbid sense of humor sometimes, and she would have laughed at that. She had always teased him, poking fun at him even when Rin was alive. He and Rin had become friends immediately, and his grandmother constantly chided him on about her

_“She seems like such a sweet girl, Obito,” she said. “I expect you to bring me some great-grandchildren, I don’t know if I’ll be around much longer to see them!”_

.....................................................

Obito’s smile slowly fades from his face, and a new well of tears springs forth, dousing what little warmth had kindled in his heart. The knot in his stomach tightens into stone— as cold and hard as the marker above his grandmother’s corpse. Could she have known? Obito thought. He shakes his head and raises his hands to cover his face, silent sobs climbing to his throat. He can barely keep his balance anymore— he drops to his knees. The stone in his stomach turns to pitch, coating the inside of his chest, and he feels his heart strain against its dark, viscous tendrils.

_She’s gone… she’s gone…_

Grandmother was the only person to accept Obito. He knew that much by the looks his clan had given him through his childhood— as if his presence was more out of obligation than actual kinship. His parents had abandoned him on her doorstep— they hadn’t loved him, but she did. He heard them whisper about him as they passed, had heard rumors of his parents— their exploits, their disgrace. The sins of the parents are the sins of the children, the voice chided.

Obito wasn’t there when she had fallen. He had been too busy, been too far away. He had been saving up to buy a nice gift for her, he’d been taking extra d-rank missions as often as he could, with what little time wasn’t devoted to his training. Baasan had complained about how much time he spent away from home so much that he considered spending that day at home, helping her instead.

It was only supposed to take a few hours at the most, Obito thinks to himself. He puts a hand to his chest, feeling the delicate package within his jackets inner pocket. Two months of saving, of scrounging and working extra. Two months of exhausting himself just to have her taken from him.

I’m so sorry, obaasan. I’m so, so sorry…” Obito says between breaths. “If only I had been there in time— If only I had been home…” The anger he feels, the darkness within him grows and mocks his cries. 

_But you were not. You were gone, and you left her alone._ Its tongue whispers in his mind, its claws scraping at what remained of his sanity.

.....................................................

I’m home!” Obito yelled as he threw open the door. He was covered in sweat and a little blood and he ached down to his bones— in his hands was a small box, wrapped up in a soft lilac paper, her favorite color. 

The house was silent, she wasn’t busy humming in the kitchen like she normally was.

He found her face down in a pool of her blood at the bottom of the stairs. Her arm bent at an odd angle— the gurgle of her breath through her mouth sounding more like a babbling brook. His heart jumped to his throat as he dropped to his knees next to her. Inside, the beginnings of a knot formed across his chest. She was breathing, but only just, and her heart twittered like a hummingbird, barely audible to even his highly sensitive ears.

Obaasan?” Obito gently tried to turn her over, wincing at the grating sound her bones made. Her chest was off, displaced, pushed to one side _. (Oh no, please no.)_ “Help! Someone!” he wailed with all the force of his fractured soul. “Obaasan, I’m so sorry…” His tears dropped off his face, mixing his grief with her blood. He pulled her into his arms, rocking back and forth, until she was taken from him.

.....................................................

Three years ago, his grandmother was taken. Obito’s black heart, gnarled and torn, pounds in his chest. He steps forward, hesitant, and places a hand on her grave. Ice cold, emotionless, much as he is now— his soul as fragmented as the broken headstone to his left. The voice in his head, the urge of revenge, to reclaim a life stolen, whispers to him, _“You failed her. You left her to die.”_


End file.
